Some Things Just Take Time

Have you ever tried to describe to someone what it was like before time began? “There was a time,” you might say, “before time began, when … “ And that just doesn’t sound right. We are stuck here in Time, because we were created and dropped in a timeline, and it won’t go away. It’s different out in space, where an astronaut can travel many times around the Earth and see four or five days and nights within just a few hours (as calculated by the digital clocks and watches on board the spaceship). So days (the evening and the morning were the first of them) don’t mean the same thing “up there.”

Likewise, God, the Creator of the Heavens and Earth, is not restricted like we are, to a life in Time. He stands outside of it and truly, a day is as a thousand years, and vice versa.

But, for those of us ”under the sun,” as the Preacher of Ecclesiastes says, we have a limited number of years, which translate into a certain amount of months, weeks, and days. Every heartbeat takes us closer to the end of them. We need to use our allotted time wisely.

Last week, I posted this picture on Facebook, which was, of course, facetious. It is a picture of “The Watched Pot That Never Boils.”

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While it’s true that some water would help, and turning on the burner would also aid the pot in boiling, the point is that it takes time, and we by nature are impatient. 

And it is precisely because of our impatience that so many new timesaving inventions have come into being, such as The InstaPot. While I’ve never tried one, I’ve heard tell that you can put a piece of frozen meat into the pot and have it done and tender within an hour. That is truly amazing! And it puts my pressure cooker to shame. Yes, even more so because all my kids were afraid of the pressure cooker anyway, regardless of whether it could quickly cook a tender roast. I’m afraid some of them have PTSD from hearing the whistling and whooshing of the steam, when cooling the cooker under the bathtub faucet.

Healing takes time. God has given us an immune system that many times can handle what is thrown at us, but it may require days or even weeks of taking it easy. The scab really should stay there until it falls off. The sprained ankle may be tender for months. The cough may continue to bug you after the cold, even for several weeks. But there is a raging war going on in our body when we are sick or injured, and we must do all we can to help the war effort. You know the drill: plenty of fluids, rest, and healthy foods top the list -- and sometimes, an antibiotic, too.

Healing a damaged relationship also takes time. There are still some of those in my life that seem to never heal but only to fester. I want that to be over and done and I am impatient. My life on earth is brief. How long can we have a sour relationship? Can we just get over it?

But I need to spend more time in prayer, and try by increments to work towards real and lasting healing, and not assume that band-aids heal all wounds.

Losing weight takes time. I have had to remind myself of that over and over again. If I lose a half pound today, it might come back tomorrow, and then I might despair that anything will work – ever. But it has taken eight or nine months every time I have lost 30 or 40 lbs., and I must keep at it and not be disturbed by the daily fluctuations. When my weight goes back up, it might just be that carry-in or that holiday, but if it’s not ridiculous, it usually will come off in a couple more days. It could also be just that I didn’t drink eight cups of water that day, and elimination is stalled.

I did have a sinus infection this week, but the good thing about being sick is that you do a lot of sleeping, miss some meals because you’re not hungry, eat less, and LOSE WEIGHT! Unfortunately, that’s usually a temporary situation. Now I have an antibiotic, so by the third day, I should feel better. Even with the doctor appointment and prescription, I still have to wait.

Whatever the case, my weight loss depends upon my perseverance, and that means, even if I mess up my diet, I have to get back up on the horse, so to speak, and keep trying. Right now, I’m using Nutrisystem, and they know how easy it is to get off-track if something uncomfortable happens in your life. People tend to go for so-called “comfort food,” that is, something you used to eat as a kid, or that just tastes good and reminds you of good times. So the diet includes healthy mac & cheese, pizza, and plenty of chocolate.

If I give up, though, and my weight rises, I’ll have to lose those pounds all over again, and that will take even more time than I thought.

Strawberries take time. We know this from the 4-H Strawberries project. The first year after you’ve planted your strawberry patch, you must let it grow and not waste the young plants’ energy on producing fruit. So you literally have to “nip them in the bud” – pinch off the young flowers before they turn into strawberries. Then you still have to do the normal weeding all summer without any fruit to show for it, and also train the plants to stay in rows, or you will wind up with an unruly patch that affords you no place to step. The second year, you will have bigger, better, and more plentiful strawberries.

But all farmers are aware of the amount of patience it takes to grow any crop. Sometimes the weather in January is tantalizingly warm and the urge to till the soil and plant is there, beckoning. Sometime in April, it just seems right that if you plant now, the crop will come in early. But you are wise if you read the seed packet and … wait, until all danger of frost in your region has passed.

Housebreaking a dog takes time. We complained about this issue with our dog to the 4-H Dog Obedience leader, and she told us how it’s done, so we resolved to try it. The disappointment came when we asked how long this process generally takes, and the answer was in years, not days. We wanted it to be days!! And it takes going out with the dog on the leash several times a day, whether the weather be good, or whether the weather be not. Maybe our mistake was being dog owners in the first place. 

But Eric has been very good lately, to take Precious out, since we have no kids left to do that job. He has far more patience with a dog than I do!

Counted cross-stitching takes time. This was another 4-H project, and for a while, I really got into this project myself. It was a natural for me, being so near-sighted. When our kids were young, I made “special blankets” for all the new babies at church. Many of our kids and other members of the church also participated, making small quilt blocks for me to piece, back, and quilt. And the best ones had cross-stitched words and pictures.

With cross-stitching, if you wanted to make a larger picture, you could sit for hours working on one color, say the dark brown in the hair of a little boy in a Precious Moments pattern, and in the end, with a stretch and a yawn, you might say, “Wow! I’ve gotten almost half of the dark brown done!” Then, you could look back at what you’d done and notice you had an X crossed the wrong way a couple of rows up, and with chagrin in your countenance, you would go to bed (because it was bedtime), thinking, “This project is going to take YEARS!”

But, precisely because it did take so long, one of our young students was given the task of cross-stitching “Haste Makes Waste” in the largest, fanciest letters we had patterns for. This was to slow her down and make sure she was more careful with her work.

Here’s a piece I designed and still keep on my office wall. It doesn’t look like that much work, until you actually draw a flower and figure out how you’re going to make it look real using only X’s and outlines.

Getting an education takes time. It especially takes time nowadays if you have to cope with leftist ideology on your campus while trying to learn how to do a job. So I, along with Valerie, are, as she put it, “college dropouts,” because both of us quit after two years. And eventually, credits towards a degree expire, but not the college debt. 

Eric looked up the requirements to be an archeologist when he was in high school, thinking he might like to do that. But when he found out it would take at least twelve years, he wasn’t as fascinated with the prospect as he had been.

I should say, Lisa does have the record for having completed the most years of college among our immediate family, having a bachelor’s in communication from IU. So far, she’s beaten all of us, but David is working towards a degree in architecture now, which isn’t so easy, either.

Raising a family takes time. I was going to say it takes awhile to have a baby – nine whole months! Here’s a picture of Vivian and Grandbaby #20, who is scheduled to make his or her debut next month! (Aren’t they beautiful?)

Photo Credit: K Photography

But the fact is, that is only the beginning. If you can deal with the time it takes for a baby to grow and develop without getting antsy towards the end (impossible!), you are well on your way to accepting the responsibility for that young life throughout his or her childhood and teen years (a couple of decades). And then after that comes the joy of still being available as a counselor and friend for the adult child for the rest of your life.

Conquering the world takes time. Here’s where it gets scary. I read recently that China has a 100-year plan to conquer the whole world. How many Chinese communists who were in on the writing of that plan will still be alive after 100 years? But we are coming towards the end of that plan, which should be around 2040. Will they succeed? Will their successors succeed? We don’t know yet, but it’s obvious they have not given up. What was mentioned in the article was that the Communists know conquering the world takes time.

And they know that we Americans have a soft underbelly – our money. And they are content to give us plenty of that, for a while. Money, as a god, would make us fat, dumb, and happy, and unprepared for a final fight.

“The idols of the nations are silver and gold, The work of men's hands.

They have mouths, but they do not speak; Eyes they have, but they do not see;

They have ears, but they do not hear; Nor is there any breath in their mouths.

Those who make them are like them; So is everyone who trusts in them.”

~Ps. 135:15-18

Trusting in the god of money makes us … well, dead – no breath.

I wrote a couple of weeks ago that we can’t even see ahead ten years to be able to plan our lives, and that we often are only living for right now, or maybe for the coming weekend. While Westerners believe a war should be over in a few years tops, it is a formidable enemy who has our destruction in mind, and who is content to wait a hundred years to finish us off.

Evangelizing the world also takes time. Here's where it gets good. Jesus said, just before He was crucified, that He had to go away. Why? Because He wanted to send the Comforter, who would be available to all of us because He was omnipresent. That was much the better plan. 

But Jesus also knew it would take plenty of time to spread the message of salvation to all the world. If his disciples were to fulfill the Great Commission, going into all the world to preach the Gospel of Salvation, they had to start in Judea, expand their reach to Samaria, and then take the Good News everywhere. It took awhile to invent a printing press, learn so many languages, and translate the Bible into them, all the while surviving centuries of intense persecution by the enemy of Mankind. 

In this, the Day of the World Wide Web, it is still remarkably difficult to get the message to some of the unreached or under-reached people groups, and is only accomplished by smuggling small portions of Scripture into a country and distributing them under cover of night.

But also, Jesus said that while He was gone, He would be preparing us a place. 

“In My Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

“And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.”

~John 14:2-3

Preparing our place in Heaven has taken time. But when it is all finished, He will come and get us, and we can move in. Can you imagine how good this place must be, if it has taken Jesus 2,000 years to get that job done? Remember, this is the same Jesus who spoke the entire universe into existence in seven days! And as true as it is, that a thousand years are like a day to Him, to us earthlings, it has seemed like a very long wait. 

Here are the words we all need to remember, concerning the wait:

“Beloved, I now write to you this second epistle (in both of which I stir up your pure minds by way of reminder), that you may be mindful of the words which were spoken before by the holy prophets, and of the commandment of us, the apostles of the Lord and Savior, knowing this first: that scoffers will come in the last days, walking according to their own lusts, and saying, ‘Where is the promise of His coming? For since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation.’

“For this they willfully forget: that by the word of God the heavens were of old, and the earth standing out of water and in the water, by which the world that then existed perished, being flooded with water. 

“But the heavens and the earth which are now preserved by the same word, are reserved for fire until the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men. But, beloved, do not forget this one thing, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.

“The Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some count slackness, but is longsuffering toward us, not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.” 

~2 Peter 3:1-9

Jesus is not late -- He’s patient. The longer He waits, the longer we have to fulfill the Great Commission. Don’t be one of the scoffers. Keep doing the work of the ministry! He is indeed coming!

Here’s what we have to do, from an old song by Andrae Crouch, “It Won’t Be Long”:

It won't be long, till we'll be leavin' here.

It won't be long. We'll be goin' home.

Count the years as months, count the months as weeks,

Count the weeks as days. Any day now, we'll be goin' home.

(Source: https://sweetslyrics.com/andrae-crouch/it-wont-be-long-lyrics)

Putting Away Childish Things. Am I Mature Yet?

Sunday was a great American holiday called “Father’s Day,” which we still celebrate in the Haley family. Though last year, I was able to go one way (to see Dad) and Eric went the other way (to visit with our kids) after church, this year, our car wasn’t in good enough condition to try that trick so I talked my dad into coming to Burrows, and some of our descendants also made the trip. It was a very fun four-generation party, complete with the three dads who could be there.

Here’s my dad, with me and Lisa:

In the meantime, we learned by comparing ourselves, that I have still not attained my dad’s height, but granddaughter Rori (13 next month) has exceeded mine. (Sigh.) Which of us is a “grownup”?

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”

~1 Cor. 13:11

The human adventure is a series of steps called “growing up.” It doesn’t happen overnight. It is a process.

Growing up doesn’t happen automatically … 

• When you’re successfully out of diapers 

• When you’ve learned to communicate in full sentences

• When you’ve learned to ride a bike 

• When you’ve reached your full height 

• When you’ve earned your driver’s license 

• When you turn 18 … or 21 … or 30 … or …

• When you’ve graduated from high school or college

• When you’ve voted in an election

• When you are accepted as a peer by an older relative.

• When you’ve been joined to a spouse in marriage

• When you’ve become a parent, or when you’ve performed the act that leads to parenthood

Growing up means that what I considered normal one day may not seem that way anymore, and my thinking has changed, because now I am taking a more mature and informed look at the situation at hand.

I’ve caught myself talking to a kid on the occasion of graduation from sixth grade: “Do you feel more grown up now?” 

Or, “When you’re a grownup …,” I’ll say, “you won’t mind kissing your wife as much as you think.”

One of the milestones of growing up happened in fifth grade, when my mother asked me to ride my bike from the trailer court in Sgt. Bluff, Iowa all the way to commissary at Sioux City Air Base, to buy and bring home a loaf of bread.

There had been another time earlier, when we lived in California, when she had asked me as a third grader, to take a large bill to the store and buy something for her, but on the way, some big kids robbed me of the cash (probably a dollar) and sent me home crying. It was humiliating to come home with nothing, but Mom was sympathetic.

This time, armed with the money and riding my trusty steed, I pedaled as fast as I could, and came home with the loaf of bread in my basket, feeling like I had just “bagged” it. I’m pretty sure my mother had watched from afar, as I made my way there and back again. By then, I’m sure she knew she could trust me with so much money, but she may have feared for my safety on the little county road, all alone.

For my part, I felt “responsible” because I had carried out a big responsibility for the first time ever.

My Uncle Sam, now in his late 80s, told me that after his wife died, he learned even more about responsibility. He learned that if he threw something on the floor, he was the only one who could pick it up. If he didn’t pick it up now, he would just pick it up later. It was logical, practical thinking. Maturity was picking it up and throwing it away now.

Concerning chores at our house, Eric had a trick he used. He would start with the kid who always objected that they got all the worst jobs, and it would go something like this:

Eric: “Would you like to dump the trash cans?”

Kid 1: “I HATE dumping the trash. I always get the worst jobs!”

Eric: “Okay, I’ll give that job to Kid 2. So here’s the other job that I was going to have her do. You can do it instead, since the first job was so hard. I want you to scrub the bathtub.”

That was the “Do all things without grumbling and complaining” lesson, and eventually “Kid 1” caught on.

In the end, all the jobs had to be done, and the sooner the kids learned that, the better. Postponing the work, for instance when it has been divided up just before the arrival of holiday guests, means that everybody has to rush around at the very last minute, or ask the guests on the couch to lift their feet while you vacuum under them.

Eventually, there is a turning point, though the turn may not seem abrupt, where you “turn into your mom” (or your dad) and it really matters whether the house is clean before the guests arrive. When you blush to think another human may notice the carcass of the bird who died after suffocating in the pile of your dirty clothes … you have turned the corner.

Kids are me-centered. They do not naturally share their toys, give away part of their cake, or give up a seat on the bus to a stranger, because doing so will make them uncomfortable. They must be taught to make such sacrifices.

So what does it mean when I “put away” childish things? Does it mean I might someday have to get rid of my teddy bear collection or my Nerf guns? (Yes, I really do have those!) Will I have to give up my joy in making snowmen? Well, no, I certainly hope not! As a grandma, “Peek-a-Boo” is as delightful as it ever was as a child. Even the Apostle Paul, as mature as he was, delighted in calling the Heavenly Father “Abba,” or “Daddy.” 

No, we must not lose that inner youth, even if our outsides begin to wear out, for when we do, we will take on the spirit of Scrooge, which is not a pleasant prospect. Rather, growing up happens when we come to the realization that life is hard, but God is good, and we choose to put our childish self-centeredness on the chopping block. 

Growing up didn’t automatically happen when I successfully graduated out of diapers, but can I control myself and my natural impulses? Or will I always need outside help telling me what to do, when not to spend money I don’t have, when to walk away from a hill I don’t want to die on?

I’m not necessarily a grownup because I’ve learned to communicate in full sentences, but can I communicate God’s love to others and control my tongue?

When I learn to ride a bike, I’m not necessarily mature. The important point is can I keep my balance in a world where everything and everybody seems to want to knock me down?

Getting taller doesn’t make me a grownup, but have I stopped foolishly comparing myself to others yet? Okay, yes, I just did that with my dad and Rori, but there are many other things I cannot control about myself besides my height. Can I be content with the way God made me? I also must remember that I can’t control my height, but I can control my weight. There I am, again, back to self-control!

Maturity is not attained when I’ve earned my driver’s license or a diploma, any more than obtaining a brain in the form of a degree helped the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. These are milestones, but what will I do with them, now that I have them? Am I mature enough to control my speed? Will I waste my life after that education, or spend it wisely?

When you become a husband, a wife, a father, or a mother, that is good. Often, marriage is that impetus which shows us that we still have a long way to go, and which works a change for the better within us. Likewise, parenthood is a strong catalyst for change. When you have become a spouse or a parent, running away from the responsibilities inherent with the job shows that maturity is still out of sight. But it is not unattainable.

There is a certain age, a brief time, thankfully, where we are unsure of ourselves. On the one hand, it is much more fun to play with Barbie's than to talk politics. But at the same time, we want to stand in the middle of a room and cry out, “HEY, I’M AN ADULT NOW! TAKE ME SERIOUSLY.” That actually never works. I think the age people do start to take you seriously is somewhere around 40, so be patient.  And rushing things, like trying out privileges that should only happen between a husband and wife, only complicates your life. You do not attain adulthood then. You only prove your immaturity.

There is no magic age whereby we can say that we are grown up. All age requirements in statutory law, such as 18 to vote, mandatory education till age 16, 21 to smoke or drink, are arbitrary. You are not “mature enough to smoke” by that time. In fact, I would say you are more mature if you reach that age and declare that it is not going to be something you’ll even try.

The Democrats are working to change the voting age to 16, flattering high schoolers by saying they are mature enough to make decisions of national import. But many of them have not even taken Civics by then and have no interest in anything political. And what they may have learned in Civics is still counterbalanced by a lack of life experience, to be able to make mature, informed judgments, not to mention the current leftist ideology called Critical Race Theory that has taken society by storm. Grown up? Maybe they’ve learned to pass tests, but have they learned to do what is right?

Growing up surprisingly comes that day when we realize that politicians are really just people. They won’t always do what’s right when faced with a tough decision – they may be corrupt. The winning, engaging smile may not be a window into their soul, but only a false front. And when they give in to bribery or extortion and vote for something evil, there’s still something you can do. You can resolve that the battle will never be over and lost. While you still have life and breath, you will fight valiantly to see justice done.

Growing up happens when we forget our childish philosophy of “I don’t like … ,” where all members of a particular set, for instance, vegetables, soups, chicken, food that is green, or people who are black or white, are disliked without even trying them.

Growing up happens that day when we forget that we had the philosophy that “all people are mean to me,” and realize that it is a privilege to love people, serve people, and even, as so many of our brave soldiers have done, to die for people if called upon to do so.

In short, you may catch yourself being mature someday … but we’re all still working on it. Like everybody around me, at age 64, I’m still learning, still changing my mind about things, still taking steps towards maturity, and still in the process of growing up.

Growing Old Together

 

Eric, still finding the time to sneak up on me from behind, ignoring the hatchet

Now and then, if you happen to be at some kind of seminar about how to succeed without really trying, there would be a question about your future goals. For instance, a question might ask you what you see yourself doing in 10 years, 20 years, etc. Eric and I have never been able to answer those questions because, as our pastor often says, “I’m not a prophet nor the son of a prophet.” And truth be told, we would have surely predicted incorrectly most of our lives. 

But now, we are getting closer to the end of the story. Can we more accurately predict how this will all turn out? 

Forty-five years ago, we would not have been able to tell you how many kids we would have. In fact, we really never talked about kids before we were married or early in our marriage. We didn’t even know if we would have any kids at all. Now we can tell you the answer to that question beyond the shadow of a doubt, along with all of their names, their dates of birth, their spouses’ names, the names of their kids and some of their grandkids, and we could even look up their social security numbers on our old tax forms.

Now we’re in our 60s. Eric has recently been approved for Social Security, yes, that same Social Security that everybody says will be bankrupt in a short number of years. (And they’re probably right.) I’ll soon be forced onto Medicare because no insurance company will want to cover me after I turn 65.

Many of our friends, over the years, have battled cancer, and/or undergone knee replacements, hip replacements, cataract surgery, back surgery, carpal tunnel surgery, or even open heart surgery. Some, like Eric’s brother Greg, his sister Gayle, and both of his parents, my mom, and all of our grandparents, have given up the ghost and are no longer with us. 

Only my dad remains of our ancestors. Besides him, it’s just Eric and me: the family patriarch and matriarch. I have a five generation picture of myself sitting on my mother’s lap, with three grandmas, youngest to oldest: 

L to R:  Me, Margaret Ware Atanacio, Audentia Burdick Ware, 

Audential Peake Burdick (“Coopie”), and Mary Davies Peake

(The Welsh side of the family)

Now I have a different five generation picture with our great grandson Charlie, and I’m on up the line with my dad at the end, oldest to youngest.

L to R:  Daniel Atanacio, me (Margie Atanacio Haley), Elizabeth Haley Luper (Lisa), 

Elizabeth Luper Murray (Joy), Charles Murray

So last year, we finally made an appointment with an attorney and changed our will. We no longer had to have plans for who could care for our minor children if we should both die. We had none of those left. But we do have a successful business and some assets, so it was important to make some provisions for our end of life. 

End of life? Are we almost there? Eric’s dad was 61 when he died and his mom was 75. His brother Greg was 58. How long, then, will Eric live?

My mom was 68 when she died, but my dad is almost 85 and still going strong. How long will I live?

How do we answer the question, “What do we see ourselves doing in ten years?” Eric said if I asked about 20 years, the answer would easily be: “Burying all our friends.” Or, if they outlive us, they might be burying us.

What do we have to look forward to in our old age and what is the likelihood that we will reach an old age? Are we there yet? Eric had been waiting for years to get a senior discount and was thrilled the first time he got one at Golden Corral. 

John Denver, who died in a private plane crash at the age of 54, sang about his (presumed) old age in his song, Poems, Prayers, and Promises.

Days, they pass so quickly now, the nights are seldom long.

Time around me whispers when it’s cold.

The changes somehow frighten me, still I have to smile. 

It turns me on to think of growing old.

For though my life’s been good to me, there’s still so much to do,

So many things my mind has never known.

I’d like to raise a family, I’d like to sail away,

And dance across the mountains on the moon.

A very good friend of ours passed from this life to the next rather dramatically, when after a church service, he had just made the statement to his wife that he was ready to go anytime. The next moment, his car was struck by a drunk driver, and he was dispatched into eternity with Jesus.

There are simply no guarantees that we will grow old together. I joke around with Eric, and he with me, about how helpless we will be without each other. 

That said, here are the top five scenarios that may play out in our lives, ten years from now.

1. When Eric is 76, and I am 74, he may not be able to climb those stairs to the second floor anymore. His back and knees sometimes give him trouble. So maybe we’ll have to trade places with Leonard’s, putting our bookbinders and office workers in The Shoe, and living where the shop is now. But our minds may still be sharp as a tack. Maybe we can get twin wheelchairs and race each other down “Old 25” from one turnaround to the other, but still do consulting for Leonard’s as needed.

2. When Eric is 76, and I am 74, maybe we’ll both be retired and living off our Social Security. Maybe the business will be able to run smoothly by itself, and we can find a used RV so we can travel and see our grandkids, who are spread out from Northern Indiana and Nebraska to New Mexico. We’ve only seen Ariabella once because it’s a three-day trip to where David is stationed. And Vivi’s baby and a third great grandbaby are both scheduled to make their entrances next month, which will be very exciting! But traveling throughout this great country together, reading books and singing songs across the Great Plains … Well, lots of other seniors do it. Maybe that’s our future.

3. Ten years from now, one of us may actually be in Heaven without the other. If that’s Eric, Calvary Chapel Lafayette won’t have Pastor Eric anymore and will be missing a worship leader, the Wednesday morning Carroll County pastor prayer group will be missing a prayer partner, and.the Battle Ground prayer show on the Calvary Radio Network won’t have one of its weekly hosts. But by that time, Eric is sure to not be the only one missing. There are any number of co-ministers who are older than Eric, who might precede him in death. As we run our race, who will be the first to make it to the finish line? And then, will I be one of those who has an identity crisis because I am no longer a pastor’s wife?

Maybe I can make a living writing kids books like Eric’s sister-in-law, Barb Haley, and Susie or Vivian can illustrate them. Maybe one of our grandkids can. Or maybe I can write fiery critiques of our collapsed government and be an influencer. Maybe, just maybe, my writing will stir up people to love and good works, like Eric’s brother-in-law, Dr. Kerry Skinner. In any case, somebody’d better help me with car repairs and mowing the lawn, or at least teach me how!

I won’t speculate on what Eric will be doing ten years from now, if he’s the one who has to run things here without me. He can do whatever he wants, and I can’t stop him!

4. Ten years from now, will we be caring for my dad, who will be 95 by then? Maybe Eric and I will be fine but Dad will need a place to stay. I’ve tried to imagine this scenario, but it’s hard to picture my dad without his large steel building and all those tools he has stored up, without his lumber mill and zip lines, without all the work he has to do on his property in Southern Indiana, which keeps him young.

Or, will one of us no longer be sharp as a tack? Will we start to forget more? Will those memories begin to fade, or maybe just the part of our mind that helps us remember to pay the bills on time, so that someone else has to help us get the job done? Maybe Susie and Joe and their seven kids (by that time) will move into The Shoe, and we can stay in the old shipping and receiving room. Or, maybe we’ll have to move into assisted living somewhere, as our minds begin to wind down.

My mother, after her stroke

5. Or, finally, how about this scenario, the one I’m hoping for? What if Jesus comes back for His bride in 2021? What if He takes us directly to Heaven at that time, along with my dad, all our kids and grandkids, those in ministry at Calvary Chapel and Calvary Radio Network, the Leonard’s Books workers, and our friends, neighbors, and loved ones who love the Lord and are anxiously awaiting His return? 

“Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing.” 

~2 Tim. 4:8

And then, what if by 2031, Christ has returned to Planet Earth along with his saints on white horses, to crush His enemies and set up His millennial kingdom? Think of it! Ten years from now, we could very well be ruling and reigning with Jesus in our glorified bodies – no more cancer or cataracts, no more psoriasis or near-sightedness, no more evil people persecuting and lying and cheating their way to the top and getting away with it.

I do hope we get to keep the white horses! I will have a new name. It might be Pearl, but only Jesus knows what it is for sure. Maybe you’ll recognize me – more than likely, I’ll still be short. I’ll still have a green complexion. I’ll still have facial features you’ll recognize. I won’t look like an anime’ or Pixar creation, but Jesus will make All Things New.

“And the Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come!’

And let him who hears say, ‘Come!’ 

And let him who thirsts come. 

Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely.”

~Revelation 22:17

I am a Morning Glory. I am here today, and gone tomorrow. But I live to please God, and to glorify Him. May my words bring Him glory and honor, both now, and forevermore. Amen.

That Comet's Got My Name On It!

This week the cicadas have been in the news. I’ve really only seen one, so maybe in Carroll County, Indiana, they’ll just be late, or perhaps they’ll miss us altogether . All we can hear are distant frogs. And shockingly, if we don’t see them soon, it’ll be another 17 years before we get another chance.

There was another such rare and cyclical occurrence in 1986, when we had only two kids. Last month, it seems, we had some “falling stars” from its debris. And unless Chris lives to be about 75 or 76, he’ll never see it – it’s Halley’s Comet.

The last time this famous comet came close enough to view from Planet Earth, Eric wrote a poem, which we submitted to a publisher, who said if we had just sent it earlier, they would have been glad to publish it but it was already too late for it to be relevant. So I did the calligraphy, we let the kids draw illustrations, and we made six thin paper hardcover copies with red and blue potato stamps of a comet for the relatives that year. 

Here’s our book in its entirety, for our posterity. Maybe when the comet comes back again – if the Earth lasts another 40 years – our descendants can try again. Or, maybe this is all the publishing we really need.

---

That Comet’s Got My Name On It

By Eric J. Haley

© 2021

With drawings by:

Elizabeth Joy Haley

&

Emily Jane Haley

Calligraphy by:

Margie Linda Haley

Bound by:

Eric Jay Haley

---

This edition is limited to

Six copies

Of which this one

Is

Copy No.

1.

---

This book is lovingly dedicated

 to the members of the

Haley family, who are

 at least able to spell

 their own name, and

 that without hesitation.

Lafayette, Indiana

Christmas, 1985

---

Daddy came home from work and said, 

“You won’t believe what I just read!

The weather report says “Clear tonight.”

We get to see the comet’s flight!

“The comet?” asked Lisa. “The one with our name?”

“The one with our name on it!” yelled Emily Jane.

“That’s right!” exclaimed Daddy. You’ll both get to see

The comet with our name on it, tonight after three.”

“After three in the morning?” Mom gasped in surprise.

“You’ve got to be kidding! Do you think it’s wise

To get up so early just hoping to spy

A comet with our name on it up in the sky?”

Now perhaps we should mention at this point in the rhyme

That comets go far, far back in time.

The one you can see in the picture below

Was named after a man who saw its glow.

Then figured out when we’d all see it again.

“Edmond Halley”* was the name of the man.

*(Note: We must remember that people spelled a 

little funny back then. 

  So we must not tease Mr. Halley for 

spelling his name with two “L’s”!!)

The family went to bed early that night,

Dreaming of stars and space shuttle flights.

Lisa walked on the moon for a while.

But Emily Jane just slept with a smile,

For she dreamed that she saw the comet’s light,

And right on its tail was her name (spelled right!)

In no time at all, it was three A.M., 

And time for all the fun to begin.

Mommy got up, and Daddy, too,

And Lisa and Emily Jane knew what to do.

They dressed in a flash, put on shoes and socks,

And ran to the closet to get the box

With the telescope in it, that Daddy had found

At a store one day, while shopping around.

They put on their coats and got in the car

And drove for awhile, but not very far

To an open field away from the city

Where the sky was black, but the stars were pretty.

“Look!” said Mom, with bleary eyes,

“Is that the comet at the edge of the sky?”

“I think it is,” was Daddy’s reply.

Then Lisa and Emily Jane, with a cry,

Said “Hurry up, Daddy! Get the telescope set

So we can see the comet with our name on it!”

With telescope set, they each took turns

And witnessed the fiery ball’s return.

They watched in wonder and great surprise

Until it was lost in the bright sunrise.

But Emily Jane was really amazed

At the scene she saw each time she gazed,

For when she looked closely at the tail of the comet

She saw that it did have her name written on it!

She told all the others, but they just smiled,

And said, “Isn’t she an imaginative child!

She thinks that that comet has on it our name,

When we mean that it looks and sounds kind of the same!”

But no one will know what Emily Jane saw

As she looked at the tail of that fiery ball,

For it’s far away now, and won’t come again

For a long, long time, but maybe then

Someone with a telescope will look in the sky

And see that same comet spelling,

“H*A*L*E*Y.”

The End